


Toddy

by SegaBarrett



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Backstory, Character Death, Character Study, Domestic Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Todd came from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toddy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Breaking Bad, and I make no money from this.
> 
> Warning: Death of an animal (not super explicit), domestic violence, child witnessing said domestic violence, other violence, Todd being Todd. Implied possibility of future non-con.

When Felicia Welker falls in love with Craig “Sandy” Alquist, she has long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and braces, and he has short brown hair and brown eyes that seem to stare right through her. They move in within a month, to a little one-bedroom apartment and to the chagrin of her older brother, Jack.

She’s the baby of the family, after all. But she knows love when she sees it, and looks at it like it’s something she needs to grab. She’s not a girl who is used to guys turning her way, after all, she’s a little awkward and gangly, but Sandy likes her anyway.

Sandy Alquist. Even the name is soft and right to her ears.

***

Felicia finds out she’s pregnant eight months later, and hurriedly becomes Felicia Alquist. Everything is fine, everything is perfect, even though Sandy starts coming home later and later and seems angrier and angrier when he gets there.

But her son – when she finds out it’s a son, she squeals with happiness and hugs Sandy with glee – seems to be coming along with no problems, healthy and good, and she has a name all picked out for him. She doesn’t know where she picked up the name Todd, not originally, but she’s just always loved it. 

When he’s born, he has a perfect head of blonde hair already. She holds him close and warms him, kisses him on the forehead and tells him that she won’t ever leave him, that he’s everything she needs and will ever need. They move into a little house with a big glass door.

***

Todd is four the first time Felicia starts to realize there may be something different about him. The time he seems to be too fascinated in stomping a worm, the time he threatens to burn down a playmate’s house with a smile on his face. 

She brushes it off as a boy being a boy. Her Toddy is a good kid, he’ll outgrow it.

She tries to show him the right things to do. To be gentle with the cats that hang out in the yard, even though they seem much more reluctant to come around. They used to come and nuzzle Felicia’s legs, curl up against her as she pet them gently. 

The word seems darker, the skies less calm.

But she has faith that it’ll work out all right. 

***

Todd Alquist worships his father and tolerates his mother. She’s the killjoy, always intervening in his little games and trying to redirect him to nicer things, and he’s the one who encourages him, who laughs when he smashes things, who thinks it’s funny when he says mean words, especially to his mother.

His father can do no wrong, and Todd wants to be just like him.

He takes him out and shows him how to fire a gun, how to shoot deer and rabbits. How to put them out of their misery when you’ve shot them already.

“Thank God you don’t get upset about this shit, Todd,” Sandy declares. “Some of my friends have pussies for sons, I swear. Get all teary-eyed about shooting Bambi’s mom. If that were you, I’d beat the pussy right out of you.”

Todd only smiles, proud, drinking in the praise as he puts another round in the head of the buck, after watching it twitch a few more moments. He doesn’t feel anything but fascination. It’s just a deer, anyway.

***

When Todd is ten years old, his mother rushes through the door and, sobbing, runs up to him. 

“Toddy… I love you,” she tells him, hugging him tight, “Be my good boy, no matter what happens okay? I’ll always love you.” The door rattles, and she turns towards the stairs, pleading, “Whatever happens, don’t tell your father where I am.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, disinterested, going back watching TV. He listens as the attic door opens, then shuts, then nothing. If he focuses, he can hear labored breathing and soft sobs. 

The door opens, and Sandy emerges, in a rage, slamming his fists into the glass door. 

“Where’s that bitch? Come on, Todd, I know she came in here! Where is she?”

Todd looks up at him, trying to figure out what to do. He had promised. 

Sandy grabs Todd’s collar and shakes him.

“Come on, Todd. Don’t be a little mama’s boy pussy. I just want to talk to the bitch, and if I have to look, it will be that much worse for her. I know she’s here. Just tell me where.”

Todd slowly points his ring finger up at the ceiling.

“Attic,” he whispers, and Sandy drops him, running up the stairs so hard that they shake, Todd thinks they may crack.

The attic door opens and he can hear his mother pleading, _no, no, no._

He listens until the sobbing and pleading all stop, until everything stops. 

Todd looks around and for the first time, he feels lost.

***

He doesn’t know how many days he wakes up, watches TV, makes a sandwich and then goes back to bed. His father comes and goes but they don’t talk, not really.

One day Todd wakes up to the sound of the glass in the door shattering. He jolts awake, sits up, and listens, all senses on some kind of red alert, though he doesn’t know for what.

“You killed my sister, you little fuck! You’re dead, you son of a bitch!” 

There’s the sound of gunshots. And yelling. Sandy and Jack, arguing, yelling, screaming. Then grunts and moans and the sound of a head being slammed into something hard. A crack.

Then there is only the sound of breathing, as Jack emerges up the stairs and looks at Todd. He extends his hand.

“C’mon, Toddy, we’re going,” he commands, and Todd listens. 

***

His hands are a little calloused from handling the chains. He spent most of the morning leading the cook back and forth between the grate and the lab, and he’s feeling a little tired. 

Lydia is leaning towards him a little, and he’s focused on the perfect blue of her shirt. He wants to come out with a compliment, but it dies on his tongue.

He reaches out and pulls her closer by the collar of her blouse.

She yelps, “No!” and pulls back, glares at him and smoothes out the wrinkle he just created. She locks eyes with him and repeats, firmly, “No.”

He looks at her, curious. He’s glad that Lydia has that pretty brown hair. He doesn’t think he’d like her as a blonde.


End file.
